


Standing Square

by PFDiva



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PFDiva/pseuds/PFDiva
Summary: Edmund recovers after everything





	Standing Square

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I blame Dora.

The room Edmund had taken as his practice room in Samol's home was large, relatively devoid of furniture, and possessing of rather more doors than Edmund would have put in if he'd built it himself. It was also far enough away from spaces that Samol frequented for Edmund to fool himself into believing he wasn't avoiding the old god.

When everything was done in Marielda, Edmund followed Ethan here. This was the place the brothers had been trying to find for years. Ethan, perhaps disgusted with Edmund, perhaps disillusioned, had left before the murder of the god-king Samothes came to a conclusion. He may have passed Samot's forces coming in. He couldn't know Malgwyn had become Samothes. Edmund hadn't told him for sure.

Then again, Edmund hadn't been well when he'd arrived, if he was very honest with himself. He tried to avoid that, when at all possible. He had vague memories of sitting slackjawed and gaping at Samol as the god played, of Ethan bringing him food while he stuffed his face, of trying not to pass out, and of wondering how to tell Samol his grandson was....not dead. Subsumed? Edmund really didn't know.

Ethan had gotten Edmund to bed somehow and Edmund hadn't gotten up except for necessities for a few days. He'd felt like he was sinking into himself, curling around his misery, and since this was a relatively safe place, he'd done it.

After a week, he'd gotten bored and began doing some stretches and light exercise to keep himself up. But there wasn't enough space in a bedroom, even a large airy one like the one Edmund had claimed for his own, for dancing practice.

A little searching had found Edmund's current practice room. As usual, he stretched first. No sense damaging his muscles by going in cold. He could have sparred with Ethan, stretched together with his brother, but he found that he really....didn't want to. He annoyed Ethan more easily these days. He found himself more upset by Ethan's words and actions, too.

As he began to dance, Edmund idly noted that his week of bed rest hadn't done him noticeable detriment. Catching his breath was more difficult, but that was to be expected. Those facts acknowledged, he turned his mind back to the thoughts that had plagued him since he was well enough to consider his life now.

He'd changed, and not for the better. It wasn't Ethan. Ethan was the same as he'd always been. But Edmund had gotten beaten up by a priest and then there was the issue of Caroline and Carolyn--what kind of parents named their children like that?

Edmund didn't consciously realize that someone was watching him dance, but he was suddenly possessed of the irrational feeling that everything…….not that it was irrelevant, but that he would weather it. No matter what. Plus, Ethan knew to stay out of the way and Samol should be clever enough to figure it out. Edmund always warned his students to be aware of their own bodies, and to be aware of the bodies of others moving past them. It was a warning he and Ethan both gave, for similar reasons. Edmund hoped it wasn't Samol. That would be....concerning.

Of course, thinking about Samol brought Edmund's thoughts back to Samothes, Samot, Malgwyn. Marielda. The Six were to blame for Samot coming and overthrowing Marielda. For Malgwyn becoming Samothes. It was their fault. They should be punished. Maybe not Aubrey. Or Ethan. But definitely Edmund. Probably Castiel.

It occurred to Edmund, in the split-second between when he realized that he was going to kick Samol and when the blow actually landed, that _Samol had never been his student._

It was an accident, of course, crafted of multiple disparate elements coming together at exactly the wrong time. Samol came too close, Edmund wasn't paying as close attention as he should have been, and he was in the middle of a spinning leap that could double as a spin kick in a pinch. His leg hit Samol's arm with bruising force. Samol proved to be incredibly solid and unmoved, but Edmund was rattled all the way up to his hip. He was going to have a truly impressive bruise on his shin in an hour.

Edmund's attempt to stop the move or lessen its impact resulted in him almost falling into Samol's chest. Samol steadied Edmund with hands on his shoulders and the twist of Edmund's stomach rather viscerally reminded him that even though he and Samol seemed to be of a height, Samol was a god. He could tear Edmund in half without trying.

Samol searched Edmund's face a moment before sighing, "Child. What _are_  you doing?" His tone suggested that he was more than aware of the fact that Edmund had been trying to remain beneath his notice. Edmund's shoulders slumped. He opened his mouth, closed it when he realized he didn't know what to say, then opened it again for a second try.

"I've spent so long knowing who I was, what I was going to do with my life. I'm Hitchcock, Ethan's twin, the dancer. And together, we were going to find, well, here." He helplessly gestured around the room. "This house. This place we were told so much about."

"Well," Samol drawled, "You did make it. You are here."

"Yes, but--!" Edmund began, frustrated and at a loss for how to articulate his feelings. Samol had retracted his hands in response to Edmund's aggressive gesticulations, and Edmund took a breath to calm himself down. He couldn't just behave like this around a god. He didn't use to behave like this at all.

"In order to get here, I have had to do things that I am not proud of. Things that even my own brother walked away from me for doing. I have seen things that I should not have seen and." Edmund steeled himself to meet Samol's kind gaze, "And this is their _home_. They were _happy_  here once, the three of them. And because of me and my compatriots, Malgwyn killed his father, and then became his father and my own home was destroyed and I do not deserve to be rewarded for _doing this!_ "

Edmund panted for breath in the wake of his rant, feeling light-headed and turned inside-out. Samol, instead of looking at Edmund with the appropriate disgust, seemed proud.

"You feel better?"

"No," Edmund admitted, "Not really." Then, "A little."

Samol stepped closer, gently pulling a limp Edmund into his arms. Edmund let himself be pulled, resting his forehead against Samol's chest. Samol smelled of freshly-turned earth and greenery. That feeling of being able to weather anything returned with a vengeance, now that Edmund wasn't wound up with anxiety and lost in his own thoughts. It was strange to be aware of what it felt like to have been around multiple gods, to have something to compare these feelings to.

"I knew what you did, child," Samol soothed, one hand warmly cupping the nape of Edmund's neck, the other slowly stroking up and down Edmund's back. "There's not much I don't know, y'see. I ain't got no hard feelings against you--how could I? You didn't make Malgwyn do what he did. And Malgwyn didn't do anything that Samothes didn't let him do. Ethan told me all about the warm welcome y'all got, y'see." And that felt like an eternity ago. Gorgeous clothing and delicious, exotic foods. Edmund didn't have the strength to mourn it. Instead, he chose to fist his hands in Samol's shirt at his sides.

"I'm sad about how it all went down, o'course, but none of it's a matter what you could've done anything for or against."

Much of the tension in Edmund unwound, "It's okay?"

"It's okay."

Edmund slowly lifted his face and found Samol's mere inches from his own. Samol was darker-complected than Samothes, with long ropes of hair framing his face. He wasn't attractive in the same way as Samothes or Malgwyn or Samot, but Edmund suddenly became aware that Samol had his own appeal.

Before Edmund could convince himself to move, Samol's grip on him tightened. It didn't feel threatening, but it wasn't an invitation, either.

"No need to rush into things. If it's gonna happen, it'll happen." Samol loosened his grip, releasing Edmund to step back, "Now, show me that dancing you were doing."

Edmund showed him.


End file.
